#Americans #Blacks #PulitzerPrize #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury #AmericanWriters
You confide in me that you are lonely,
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
If my sorrow were deeper I’d be, along with you, under the ocean’s floor; but today I learn that the oil that pools beneath the ocean floor
Knowing you might some day come and how unprepared I’ve always been like Mr. Sloppy in Charles Dickens’
When you see water in a stream you say: oh, this is stream water; When you see water in the river you say: oh, this is water
I have a friend who is turning gray, not just her hair, and I do not know why this is so.
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
The tree of life has fallen on my small house. I thought it was so much bigger! But it is not. There in the distance I see the m…
When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder
As if I’ve swallowed A watermelon And Sidestepping My digestive tract
My desire is always the same; wherever Life deposits me: I want to stick my toe & soon my whole body
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
Look into her eyes and know: She does not think
I said to Poetry:"I’m finished with you." Having to almost die before some wierd light comes creeping through
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother